


heaven on the eyes and hell on the heart

by notthebigspoon



Series: Brandon and Hobbes [13]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Buster says he's going home to Georgia for a little while, Brandon smiles and says cool, tells him to have a great time with his kids and family. He drives Buster to the airport and sneaks one last kiss in the drop off lane before Buster climbs out and heads inside. He watches until he can't see Buster anymore before sighing and heading for home, a drive that feels like it takes forever. He makes a gigantic pile of tuna sandwiches and parks himself on the living room couch with Hobbes to stuff his face and watch a few episodes of Taboo. It's always nice to know that there are people in the world that are more fucked up than he is.</p><p>Title taken from Hell on the Heart by Eric Church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven on the eyes and hell on the heart

When Buster says he's going home to Georgia for a little while, Brandon smiles and says cool, tells him to have a great time with his kids and family. He drives Buster to the airport and sneaks one last kiss in the drop off lane before Buster climbs out and heads inside. He watches until he can't see Buster anymore before sighing and heading for home, a drive that feels like it takes forever. He makes a gigantic pile of tuna sandwiches and parks himself on the living room couch with Hobbes to stuff his face and watch a few episodes of Taboo. It's always nice to know that there are people in the world that are more fucked up than he is.

Hobbes says it'll be okay, that Buster will be back and will call, probably the second his plane lands. Brandon thinks he's full of crap, that Buster will probably forget about him for a little while but he doesn't say it. It wouldn't be right to. After all, Hobbes is the one who takes care of him above all others, who never ever lets him down or disappoints him. He's the one who sat with Brandon while Brandon told Buster about the baby, tail swishing against Brandon's hand. He's the one who sits up with Brandon every time he has a nightmare about the hospital, purring and nuzzling Brandon until he stops crying and shaking, until he can sleep again.

He doesn't get a call, just two texts. One to let him know that Buster's plane has landed and a second to let him know that Buster safely made it to Leesburg. Brandon hides his disappointment and goes to sleep in Hobbes's bed, face hiding in his arm with Hobbes's paw planted between his shoulders, warm and heavy and comforting.

Being alone with nothing to do has always meant bad things for Brandon, which is a big part of why he dreaded the end of the season. It's what motivates him to get out of the apartment and start house hunting. The apartment is too small even just for him and Hobbes. When his boyfriend is over it's a tight squeeze and when all the guys are over, it's almost intolerable, making Brandon feel like a sardine in a can. He needs a place for him, Hobbes and the baby. Maybe Buster too, someday, if Brandon's lucky. He wants something private, with fences and maybe a gate. It isn't fair for Hobbes to be cooped up all the time, even if he's a city cat and that's what he's used to. He makes a list of requirements with Hobbes: four bedrooms at least, a yard, a gate and as big a kitchen as possible. With the list and a realtor recommended by Cain, he starts searching.

He keeps Hobbes in the loop with the video chat on his phone, showing him everything and letting him veto houses, no matter how ridiculous his reasons. He hadn't expected this to be so hard or for Hobbes to be so picky. He wishes he could ask Buster what he thinks but his boyfriend is always so busy, never having more than a minute or two to spare for a phone call. It hurts Brandon's feeling a little but in fairness, he assumes that Buster has a _lot_ of friends and family that are eager to see and spend time with him. A lot of his teammates probably do. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be with friends and family. Brandon wouldn't know.

In spite of the aggravation that he's surely causing for his real estate agent doesn't give up, producing more and more homes even as Brandon consistently shoots them down, either for his own reasons or for Hobbes's. He has Zito with him the day that he finally finds one that he likes. It's two stories with high fences, tucked into the far recesses of a gated community twenty minutes away from San Francisco. Five bedrooms with a huge backyard and massive kitchen. It's everything that he and Hobbes had been hoping for. When Zito asks if Brandon thinks Buster will like it, he shrugs.

“I don't know. We haven't really talked since the season ended. He's really busy at home.” Brandon shrugs, prowling the kitchen again while the agent calls in his offer on the house. “I guess I'll find out... well, later.”

“You were going to say next year, weren't you?” Zito asks, petting his hair. Brandon doesn't pull away.

“Yeah. I mean, logically, I know that Buster wouldn't spend the season being, I don't know, exclusive with me and then just ditch me when I'm not convenient anymore.”

“But years of paranoia and not being able to trust the people that are supposed to love you are hard to overcome.” Zito smiles and hugs him. “I get it, kid, I really do. Happier thoughts though. My uncle is in town on business tonight. You wanna join us for dinner tonight?”

“I get to have dinner with Bobby Ewing? Awesome.” Brandon grins. “What about Cain and your wife?”

“They're both laid up sick. Home in bed with Fresca and the Saw movies.”

“Is that really something that they want to see when they're sick?” Brandon blinks. They make him want to throw up when he's well.

“They're weird like that.” Zito shrugs, nudging him and pointing when the real estate agent comes back, beaming and telling Brandon that his offer has been accepted and they can start the paperwork the next day.

He walks over the house one more time and snaps a few extra pictures. He calls Hobbes and tells him they have the house and he'll be out late, he's having dinner with Zito. When he tags on the bit about Zito's uncle, Hobbes swears he's never talking to Brandon again. Brandon laughs when he hangs up, telling Zito about the threat and about Hobbes's fan boy feelings towards Patrick Duffy. Zito laughs until he snorts and promises that they can get Hobbes an autograph, that maybe next time they'll test out whether or not his uncle can see Hobbes.

Brandon is nervous but for no reason. Patrick is every bit as nice as his nephew and not nearly as eccentric. He tells them stories about being on the set of the new show, elbows Brandon and tells him Josh Henderson is very available and that Patrick can introduce Brandon if he'd like. Brandon blushes, stuttering and nodding when Zito dryly tells Patrick that Brandon barely knows what to do with the boyfriend he's got and that having two would end in disaster. Zito considers it for a moment and asks if Patrick can introduce _him_ to Henderson. Patrick swats him upside the head and calls him greedy, telling him that one wife and one boyfriend is enough for anybody.

Brandon stares. Forget the fact that his best friend is a talking tiger. Compared to Zito and anyone related to him, Brandon is the sanest guy on the planet.

Patrick takes a cab from the restaurant, saying he has to fly back out in just a few hours. He hugs Zito and tells Brandon it was nice to meet him and that he hopes they see each other again. He gives Brandon a hug and plants a kiss straight on his lips, telling them both goodbye one more time before climbing into his cab. Brandon watches it turn the corner before turning to Zito and staring at him.

Zito shrugs. “He likes younger guys.”

Brandon blushes all the way home and refuses to tell Hobbes why he's so red when he walks in the door. Instead he starts his computer and uploads all the pictures he'd taken, walking Hobbes through it, pointing out Hobbes's room. It's huge, overlooking the back yard, and Hobbes seems pleased by it, licking Brandon's cheek and thumping a paw on his leg. They discuss which of the other three rooms will be the nursery and argue about colors. Brandon is in favor of purple or green and Hobbes staunchly insists on black and orange, stating that tigers are perfectly acceptable role models. When Brandon innocently reminds him that he can name a few Tigers that recently got their asses handed to them, Hobbes bites holes into his hoodie before grumpily agreeing to green.

He stays up late, wandering the house and drinking jack and coke, too restless to even try sleeping. He'd emailed Buster pictures of the house and one of him, Zito and Patrick, mentioning he'd had dinner with Bobby Ewing. Buster would get a kick out of it. If he's even seen it yet. Brandon hasn't heard from him in two days. He doesn't know if Buster's gotten any of his messages.

Maybe he's overdoing it, turning into that boyfriend that you just can't get rid of, that will never give you a moments peace. He silently resolves to leave Buster alone and maintain radio silence until his boyfriend has contacted him again. _If_ his boyfriend contacts him again. He shakes his head and drains the rest of his drink before going to pour himself another. He's not going to think like that. Buster would never do that to him. Brandon sure as hell hopes not. He doesn't think he can take it, falling in love a second time and being left a second time.

When he wakes up, he's on his bedroom floor with his cheek squished into the carpet. He rolls over and sits up, rubbing his face. He doesn't even remember going to his room and it scares him a little bit. He's never gotten black out drunk before. He's usually pretty responsible about how he drinks, too afraid of losing his mind for real, however irrational that fear might be. He realizes his phone is ringing and he carefully stands up and makes his way to the bed. Buster's face is lighting up the display. Brandon hits answer and mutters a greeting. His head is killing him.

“Brandon?”

“S'who you called, isn't it?” Brandon mumbles, sprawling back on the bed and shielding his eyes from the light.

“Actually, I was making sure that you were coherent first.” Buster answers. Brandon freezes.

“What are you talking about?”

“You called me last night while you were drunk off your ass.” Buster answers, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“Guess I overdid it and drank a little more than I meant to. Sorry.”

“So you don't remember telling me you were sorry for bothering and to have a nice life?”

Brandon groans. “No. Look, I'm sorry. I'll just, talk to you later or something. Okay? Lat-”

“If you hang up on me, I swear to God, I will fly back to San Francisco just to kick your ass. Remember what Blanco did to Victorino?” Buster demands and Brandon cringes at the memory. It'd been so awful and messy. “That will be nothing compared to this.”

“Look, I said I was sorry!” Brandon snaps. “I... I guess I was just lonely and paranoid. Or, I'm pretty sure that I was. Those can be my default states sometimes.”

“It's been two weeks-”

“I know, and that's why I feel like Edward Cullen's unsparkly long distance cousin.”

“Oookay. I'm gonna pretend my boyfriend doesn't make Twilight references.” Buster answers, snorting. “What I was going to say is that I've been a jerk and I'm sorry. I could have made more time to call you. I _should_ have tried to call you. But I didn't and I'm sorry.”

“... _you're_ sorry?” Brandon asks, more than a little confused. “He's not used to people apologizing to him. Usually he's the source of the problem.

“Yes I am. You gonna come visit? And don't say you don't belong. Mom loves you.”

“I can't right now. They accepted my offer on the house and there's all the paper work to do, mortgage. All that adult shit that I hate and for once can't pawn off on Hobbes.” Brandon mutters. “Where are you?”

“Sitting in Hobbes's bedroom watching Malcolm in the Middle reruns.”

Brandon stares at his phone and drops it, scrambling out of his bedroom and down the hall. Sure enough, there's luggage in the living room and when he opens Hobbes's door, Buster is sitting in Amber's usual chair, grinning. Brandon pounces him and kisses him hungrily, hands winding into his short hair and tugging at it. Buster laughs, pushes his hands into Brandon's back pockets and kisses back before pulling away a little.

“As much I would love to molest you right now, I'm not doing it in front of my children.” Buster chuckles, nipping Brandon's lips before nodding at the bed.

Hobbes is sprawled out across it, fast asleep with Lee and Addy napping against him like he's a fuzzy orange and black pillow. Brandon stares at them, glances at Buster and stares at the kids again, swallowing hard. “Your... kids are here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. I just... you trust me around them?”

Buster makes a frustrated noise and kisses Brandon again. “Yes, you idiot. I love you, everything about you. There's not another person on this planet that I'd trust more with my kids. Well, except maybe Cain.”

“Fair enough.” Brandon laughs, voice a little shaky. “You love me?”

“Like crazy.”

“Love you too. So much.” Brandon beams. Now that it's out, he can't stop smiling. “How long do you think we have before your kids wake up?”

“Long enough.”


End file.
